Rainbow Row
by Replacement for the Stars
Summary: After the war, Harry Potter is given two Death Eaters as a gift. Slave!Lucius, Slave!Snape. HP/lm/ss. VK/HG. Warning: contains non-con, violation, abuse, cannibalism and torture.
1. Chapter One, Collection

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Bucket/Replacement for the Stars/filthyfreedom**

Chapter One:  
Collection

(O.o)

Harry Potter followed Fudge through the halls of Azkaban, nodding at the correct times to the man's prattle, Hermione walking just a pace behind him. They knew better, by now, than to walk next to him. He spun his wand through his fingers as Fudge glanced back over his shoulder, telling him that it was just a few minutes until they came to the cell housing Harry's inmates.

"Mind telling me why you chose these two, Master Potter?"

He grasped his wand tightly enough to dig his trimmed nails into the meat of his palm. "I was unaware it mattered, Fudge," he responded quickly, not bothering to hide his disgust for the Minister of Magic. Fudge knew Harry disliked him and also most likely knew the reality of would happen to his so-called Ministry of Magic once Harry had his slaves. After all, they were his due, for defeating Voldemort and having to train for six years at the hands of ruthless Order members unable to do it themselves because of a _prophecy_. He had learned Dark magic on his own and defeated Voldemort at his own game.

Fudge swallowed and hurried his step. Only a hallway later, Fudge stopped outside a cell and Harry halted as well, turning his head to peer past the bars at the two men, both once so high and mighty, now covered in dirt and their own filth. Perfect.

Hermione cleared her throat and did not retreat a step when Harry's head swung around to stare at her, the green eyes staring at her above gaunt cheeks. He had always been so thin. "The bond has already begun. You must collar and brand"—her voice tightened at the last word and at the bright look in Harry's eyes—"them for it to be completed." She paused for a moment and then decided to not add on his title. He had never informed her that such a requirement was needed of her, as she was one of his few remaining friends left over from the war. All that was required of her was to give him her honest opinions on matters and assist him where needed. As well as his friend and confidant, but that had been left unsaid because Hermione had always known. She knew why Harry chose these two men and had raised her objections—after all, she would never approve of slavery—but quieted when he told her to.

Hard green eyes pierced her and Hermione was hard pressed to not look away. "Who performed the bond?" he bit out, and Hermione watched as his gaze unwillingly moved to the two men standing together, united, in the cell.

"I did," Hermione answered quickly, and held out her wand and opened her mind to allow him to verify. "With Viktor assisting."

Scarred lips pursed as Harry took in her words and touched her wand with thin fingertips. He closed his eyes as whatever he was searching for flew into his magic, and after a moment, the green gaze slammed her to the spot once again. "Good," he muttered, and held onto her wand as he swiftly entered her mind. She had performed the correct bond, the one that Harry had demanded be done—it bonded them to him, but not vice versa, as he had claimed he didn't want to feel their pathetic emotions—and quickly ushered him to the memory.

_Hermione threw a last glance at her tall, duck-footed husband and he nodded slowly to her, telling her to go ahead with the procedure. Shackled to the floor on the other side of the relatively tiny room, Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy knelt, hard eyes spitting fire at her. She lifted her wand and took a deep breath, momentarily closing her eyes._

_As she began the quiet, melodic sounds of the slavery spell, Viktor picked up the two vials of Harry's freely donated blood from the small table next to him and circled once around the two men before stepping first up to Malfoy. He pocketed the vial of blood for Snape and used a wordless spell to wrench Malfoy's mouth open, the grey eyes spewing hatred at him. Viktor pulled the stopper out of the vial and turned to Hermione, waiting for her nod; the moment it came, he poured the blood in Malfoy's mouth and cast another wordless spell to force him to swallow it. Viktor threw the vial away, ignoring the shattering of delicate glass as he moved to Snape, and performed the same wordless spell to wrench Snape's sneering mouth open. At Hermione's second nod, he poured Harry's blood into the Potion Master's mouth and quickly cast the spell to force him to swallow it. Viktor threw the second vial away and retreated behind Hermione, not looking at what he had done._

_Hermione ignored the sweat dripping down her temples as she swished and twirled her wand for the last time, incanting the last string of binding words, and when the bright gold flash forced both men to slam their foreheads into the uneven stone floor, both Hermione and Viktor made their escape._

Harry roughly retreated and shoved Hermione's wand back into her hands. He nodded to her when she peered up at him, searching the liquid brown eyes for a long moment before quietly telling her that she had done a good job. Hermione visibly brightened—when had praise from her only surviving friend come to mean so much?—and took a step back, slipping her wand behind her ear and idly dusting off her robes to hide her nervousness. She did not approve of what Harry was doing and he was quite aware of that; however, Hermione knew that Harry believed this reward to be his due and would allow him that.

It was all anyone had left to give him.

Harry opened his death-green robes and pulled out two collars and a branding iron in the shape of a lightning bolt. He touched one of the buttons with a thin finger and the robes quickly closed themselves as Harry idly examined the collars and the iron; Hermione glanced through the bars to see Snape's black eyes fastened on Harry's hands. They knew his emotions now, even though they now felt only the faintest dregs of what Harry was feeling; did they know what Harry had planned for them? What Hermione knew he was going to do to them? The humiliation and agony Harry was going to force them to suffer? Hermione was well aware that Harry hated these two men, hated them with all he had, perhaps more than he had even hated Voldemort. Could they feel it? Did they _know_?

A part of her wished they did, and another part, a more gentle soul that had not been tainted, dreadfully hoped that they did not know how Harry felt for him. At least, not yet. They would be the victims to every nuance and every shade of every single one of Harry's emotions; they would know soon enough. The soft, gentle part of Hermione hoped that Harry would allow their innocence for his hatred for the longest amount of time possible, if only to allow them their faux freedom for just a moment more.

Harry lifted one long, rail-thin hand and the bars melted away. Hermione stepped up behind him, making sure to keep both herself and Fudge out of the cell, and held in her gasp.

* * *

The second chapter will be posted within the hour.  
-Replacement for the Stars


	2. Chapter Two, Collared

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Bucket/Replacement for the Stars/filthyfreedom**

Chapter Two:  
Collared

(O.o)

They were chained, both of them, their hands tied behind their backs and forced to their knees in a second. Hermione wondered how long they had been forced to stand like that; Harry lifted his hand again and the chains keeping them tethered to the ground and consequently in the cell shortened to an almost uncomfortable length.

Harry waved his hand and Malfoy's hands were free. They stayed behind him for a long moment and then slowly moved to land limply at his sides. The bond was already in effect, then, if Malfoy was not doing to damnedest to kill Potter. Harry looked down at the collars he held casually in his hands and held out both of them.

"Choose."

One was red and the other gold; the perfect matched pair. Hermione felt nearly sick and turned slightly away from Fudge so he could not see the disgust as it roiled up around her face. Slowly, Malfoy reached out and touched the gold collar; Hermione could feel it in the air when Harry sneered. "Good boy, _pet_," Harry snarled, and Hermione watched as Malfoy's bare chest flushed into a pink so light it could have said to never exist at all even as his body recoiled and his chin lifted haughtily. "Put it on."

After nearly a minute of tense silence, Malfoy complied, and the moment the collar magically resized itself to his neck and then clicked shut with a loud, final _snap_, he collapsed to the ground, nearly writhing in agony. Hermione wondered how the bond was hurting him for forcing his Master to hate him; Harry's brilliance was disheartening. A Master/slave bond that relied on physical, _sexual_ touch from the Master? He was going to kill them before he had any fun with them.

Harry readjusted his grasp on the branding iron, dropping down on one knee as the lightning bolt suddenly flared searing red-hot. Obviously touching Malfoy as few number of times as possible, Harry flipped the blond man over and without warning, slammed the iron into Malfoy's right cheek. Malfoy let out a crow of pain as his flesh bubbled beneath the iron, and Hermione readjusted so that she could see Harry's gaunt face. As she had expected, it was emotionless except for the calculating glaze to his eyes. He _liked_ what the pain did, what agony the bond forced Malfoy to feel, and Hermione almost did not want to know what Snape would suffer. He had belittled and mocked Harry for _years_ and Hermione was well aware that there was no one left alive that Harry hated more than Severus Snape.

After a good three minutes of burning his brand into Malfoy's cheek, Harry removed the iron and looked down at Malfoy's lightly twitching left arm, where the Dark Mark resided as a pale grey scar. Harry swiftly shoved the iron against the Mark, ignoring Malfoy's new cry of pain—evidently even Malfoy's felt pain—as he absently tapped his fingers against his knobby knee.

Hermione wrenched her gaze from the horrific sight and found it locked on Snape's burning black gaze. There was no pleading, no desperation; for a horrific moment, Hermione wondered if Snape actually _wanted_ this, if he wanted to belong fully and true and completely to someone, even if that someone utterly hated him, but she quickly dismissed it as impossible. Snape had lived the majority of his life under two Masters; why would he want another, especially one such as Harry?

However, when Harry finished the last brand on Malfoy's lightly twitching body—this one right in the middle of his rather well-developed pectoral muscles, Hermione had to admit—and told Snape to put on the Gryffindor scarlet collar after releasing his hands, the man took it without hesitation and writhed on the ground as well, Harry watching interestedly.

Harry did not waste any time in branding Snape. He shoved the iron right up onto Snape's left cheek and stared up at the ceiling until he felt it was done, Snape letting out a low keening sound. Harry reheated the iron as he brusquely pushed it against Snape's faded Dark Mark, and then once more to the middle of his chest, digging it in deep for good measure. Harry stood up, looking rather accomplished and turned back as he Banished the branding iron, smirking triumphantly at Hermione.

"Well, Fudge, was that what you thought it was going to be?" Harry snarled and Fudge shook his head, bringing out a monogrammed handkerchief to blot his forehead with as Harry crossed his arms smugly over his thin chest and leaned back against the far wall of the cell. Malfoy had managed to force himself up into a sitting position, as Snape was still writhing slightly from the agony of Harry's hate, and Hermione watched in horror as Harry looked curiously down at the struggling Malfoy and then lifted one finger. Malfoy was slammed flat against the stone floor, his horrifically burned cheek pressed to the uneven stone, and before Hermione could protest—they were people, after all!—Harry lifted his gaze and stared her down.

What had he become? What had they done to him? Oh, poor Harry, Hermione thought, and then immediately shoved away the thought. Pity would only cause Harry to become infuriated with her and now that he had an outlet, Hermione was well aware of where his fury would be placed. She had not been fond of Snape, either, but he was extraordinarily talented in potions and she had been raised to respect her teachers, even if she did not like them.

"Not quite, Master Potter," Fudge admitted, and after blotting his entire face one last time, he tucked his handkerchief away and looked pointedly at the two men lying in agony at Harry's feet. "Do you expect their assets to be unfrozen?"

Harry's not-quite-thin lips curled into a dangerous, shark-skin smile and Hermione diverted her gaze. "Why, yes," he drawled, settling even more comfortably against the cell wall, "I believe that would be wise. After all, their assets _do_ belong to me…"

By the widening of Malfoy's grey eyes, Hermione understood that he understood and she squeezed her own brown eyes shut, refusing the knowledge. Draco Malfoy was the Malfoy Heir, and as Lucius had been incarcerated in Azkaban, Draco had received all of the Malfoy assets. However, it was Harry's right to seize them back, and Hermione was quite aware that he was going to do such a thing. It would hurt not only Draco, but his father, as well.

"Fudge, lead us out of here," Harry snapped, and stepped forward, intentionally pressing the heel of one of his boots to Snape's long fingers, just to listen to the man's soft grunt of pain. He paused as the two men struggled to their feet, and magic only shoved them back to their knees. Harry 'tsk'ed disapprovingly, shaking his head mockingly. "Crawl," he ordered them, and swept away.

Hermione only paused long enough to see Snape and Malfoy throw one another glances and then fall to their hands and comply. She then followed right behind Harry and Fudge, Harry pausing at every corner to allow his slaves to catch up.

She could see the malicious glee in his green eyes and vaguely, she wondered why he had not branded their hands, if only to make the crawling more difficult.

* * *

-Replacement for the Stars


	3. Chapter Three, Containment

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Bucket/Replacement for the Stars/filthyfreedom**

Chapter Three:  
Containment

(O.o)

Harry lifted his hand, palm towards the floor, and levitated both Snape and Malfoy into his bedroom, roughly dropping them on the two dog beds at the end of the bed. He personally slammed the door shut and raised the wards, stalking away to leave his quarters. They felt odd with people in them, that was certain. Hermione leaned against the wall next to the portrait leading to his quarters, and glanced uncertainly at it when no one followed him out.

Harry answered her unasked question as they walked through the silent halls of Hogwarts, absently stepping around the skeletons and holes from the Final Battle. "They need rest," he replied evasively, and Hermione stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Does anyone"—by that she meant the house elves that Harry would not allow her to free—"know that they are here?" Her voice rose slightly as she implored, "They need food, Harry, food and water!"

Harry shoved her away with a frigid glare as he barked out, "Dobby!" and Hermione steadied herself against the nearest wall as she watched Dobby throw himself against Harry's long legs, crying wildly. Harry pushed him away, his hard emerald eyes narrowed. Dobby danced from foot to foot as he begged for something to do for the Great Harry Potter; Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. "There are two…_men_ in my chambers. You are to bathe them, feed and drink them, and then consequently ignore them. Say nothing to them and do not touch them more than necessary; they belong to me. Do not treat their wounds or touch their collars _at all_," he warned, and Dobby nodded hastily, his eyes so wide they protruded dangerously. "Go," Harry commanded, and once Dobby vanished with a bright _pop_, Harry glared furiously at Hermione before whirling around on his heel, death-green robes biting at his calves, and stalked to the Great Hall, Hermione following obediently behind.

She could remember their years at Hogwarts, when Harry was happy and joyful, but then she could remember the years after Sirius's death, when Snape's mocking and cruel comments had actually _decreased_, but Harry had not noticed; instead, Harry had grown more malicious and harder, like a soldier lost in war. He had lost everything in the war: Ron, all of the Weasley's except for Bill, nearly all of the Gryffindors, the majority of the Hufflepuffs, half of the Ravenclaws, and of the Slytherins and the students that hadn't gone Dark, they had lost all but Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy.

But now, Harry was a monster, warped into a different creation by his long-term use of Dark magic. He had become a Dark Lord, Hermione knew, but she would never admit it, because that would be tantamount to them having lost the war. The war that everyone had thought begun when Trelawney made a slurring prophecy, when Hermione knew that it had started so long before that, perhaps before Voldemort had even been born—Harry had once told her the dying tale of Tom Riddle's birth, how the man had been conceived under a Love Potion, which had destroyed his own ability to love, how Merope Gaunt had died in childbirth, and Hermione had heard Harry quietly wonder to himself if Merope had chosen to die, if she had known what her son would become.

But as there had been no other option for them to win, Harry had turned into what he hated most, but once the talk had started that it had been necessary for them to win for Harry to destroy himself, Harry had changed. It had started so slowly that she couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when Harry had realized he despised himself, but she knew that what he had suffered could never be repaid, in blood or flesh.

The two of them stepped into the vacant Great Hall, a single chair in place of the Head Table, and Harry settled gratefully into it, the invisible Cushioning and Warming Charms cradling him in. Hermione stayed standing and waited patiently for Harry to begin talking, to tell her which troops to gather and which to eliminate; they had been infiltrated before and Harry was constantly on the lookout for spies. It had once been paranoia that Hermione had not understood, but when Harry had nearly been killed, she had understood that Harry had to protect himself, and if that protection came in the form of too many spells and permanent wards and curses that Harry could spit out faster than his own name, she would accept it.

A thin, slumped form side-stepped into the Great Hall and wandered over to them, wrapping long arms around Hermione's shoulders. Harry greeted Viktor with a sharp nod and then he examined the tall body with interest, as if thinking something Hermione would never expect. Finally, Harry leaned forward and his thin face twisted into something unfamiliar, something inhuman, and his cold eyes locked the couple into place. But he said nothing, as if saving his plans for another time, and waved the two out of the empty room, leaving himself to his thoughts.

(O.o)

Hermione looked down at the small bit of parchment in her hand, carefully controlling the urge to scream and shake Harry with a demand for answers, on just what he thought he was doing. But she knew, and sent the unfamiliar brown owl away with a flick of her hand, and gathered herself together with a tug on her magic, and left her and Viktor's bedchambers, gathering her robes around herself, as if they were a shield against what she would see.

It was a long walk to Harry's chambers, one that Hermione often relished. She took the way that cost her another fifteen minutes, if only to see the undisturbed portions of Hogwarts land, and to pretend that she and Harry were young again, lounging next to the lake and laughing together, talking about things that no longer mattered in a world as cruel as this one. Hermione paused at the entrance to the hallway that contained the Room of Requirement, not seeing the heavy black curtains Harry had hung to keep the magic of the Room to himself, but seeing the time that Harry had pulled her in there with fear in his eyes, haltingly telling her that he thought he was gay, and she had smiled and told him that now they could look at guy's arses together, and the death in his eyes had disappeared for a while.

But she continued on, coming to Harry's chambers too quickly, and she opened the plain door with a hesitant press of her wand to the invisible doorknob that hid behind the snake carved around the edges. It took too much effort to force herself to step inside and she shuddered when the door slammed shut behind her. What greeted her was exactly what she had feared most to see.

* * *

I will not be answering any reviews for this story; however, beside that, I do wish for feedback, negative or positive.


	4. Chapter Four, Carved

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Replacement for the Stars**

Chapter Four:  
Carved

(O.o)

Harry twirled his wand thoughtlessly as he stared at Dumbledore's ruined desk, wondering if he should repair it or Banish it. He had once respected the man but with figuring out that turning him into Voldemort had been the plan all along, and seeing that he would either become another Dark Lord or be killed, he had taken no time in learning a curse old enough that the Ministry couldn't remember it to forbid it. Harry finally flicked his wand and the remnants of the great desk disappeared, placed within Slytherin's hourglass for later examination; after Voldemort's defeat, Harry had emotionlessly collected the emeralds, rubies, sapphires and garnets and placed them in a bottomless pouch to later dispense in his newly hatched Gringotts account. He now held a ruby and a garnet in each hand; he had found a spell to insert them in his little pets' skin.

Harry smirked and Banished Dumbledore's broken armchair, quickly making a duplicate of the almost-throne he had in the Great Hall, adding on the same impermeable Cushioning and Warming Charms; ever since he had felt Voldemort ripped from his mind, in that time so long ago, he had always been cold, as if Voldemort's evil had somehow kept him warm. But now that he had his little pets, he presumed they would warm him whenever he pleased. After all, despite the fact that Malfoy looked like his despicable son and Snape was uglier than the backside of a troll, Harry had chosen them not only for the sole fact that he hated them but because it would debase and ruin them if he honestly found them attractive.

Harry smirked and then shifted through the tattered wards still dangling from the castle and confidently took the Anti-Apparation Ward and swallowed it's magic, feeling himself bloat with contentment. He disappeared and landed in the foyer of the Ministry of Magic, watching detachedly as the man behind the small desk gasped at him and immediately fell to his knees, murmuring that it was an honor to be in the mere presence of the great Master Potter. Harry smiled and without a thought, killed the man.

(O.o)

There wasn't blood everywhere; Harry was too careful for that, and Hermione knew that his closeted upbringing had ingrained so deeply in him the necessity of cleanliness that he wouldn't allow blood to stain his rooms or his clothes. But the two men that had once been so great were chained to the singular chair sitting in front of the burning fireplace, on their knees and deep wounds exposed to the fire. Snape was the first to look up when she stepped in, and the first to look away when it was obvious she wasn't Harry. Malfoy glanced at Snape at then simply stared at her; had the bond progressed so far that Harry's emotions had overshadowed their own? Harry had specifically stated that that aspect of the bond was something he did _not_ want, which was why he had freely donated his blood; using blood unwillingly donated would turn the two men into no more than mindless bodies, embodying Harry in everything but appearance. He wanted the men to resist and fight him, wanted to see their pain and the begging in their eyes that they would never speak.

Hermione sadly shook her head and 'tut-tutted' at the state Harry had kept the two men in for nearly two days. Harry was often absent-minded and Hermione knew he often forgot to feed himself, but he should have been so over-come with glee at dominating these two men that anything he 'forgot' could only be intentional. Harry's note had said to do what she wished with the men but if she dared to even lay a finger on either one of them, he would show Viktor what he had done to Ginny Weasley when he had detected a love potion in his food.

Hermione murmured a spell under her breath and the chains binding the men to the chair disappeared, and she watched sadly as Snape nearly fell over, only caught by Malfoy's quick but stiff grasp. They crowded together, two broken birds in a sky of deceit, and Hermione only turned on her heel and stormed to Harry's bathroom. He had kept food and Healing Potions hidden under the sink ever since she had known him; a desperate need carried over from the Dursley's, and Harry had finally given her a gift with his hoarding.

She smiled grimly as she gathered up the heavy loaf of bread and the thick vials of All-Purpose Healing Potion and stepped cautiously into the sitting room, seeing Malfoy watch her every move. "Harry sent me to heal and feed you," Hermione interjected into the sodden silence of the room, and Malfoy's pointed face tightened dangerously, his scarred arm tucking around his gaunt stomach. Had Harry done what she thought he had done? Had he learned too much from Vernon Dursley's cruel hands? She set the bread down in front of the men and stacked the vials behind it, quickly backing away and then settling herself down against the far wall, making sure to watch them both at the same time.

Malfoy was the first to reach for the bread, Snape still fallen forward, hidden behind his greasy curtain of hair, and Hermione watched, crest-fallen, as Malfoy didn't offer Snape food but only fed himself, still keeping constant physical contact with the sallow man. "Professor?" Hermione whispered, and Snape's head jerked up so quickly that he hit Malfoy in the face with his thick hair, but the blond man didn't seem to notice. "Aren't you hungry? Harry said you can eat, I promise. The wards wouldn't have let me in if that wasn't true."

Snape turned his head away and stared forlornly into an empty corner, the wounds on his thin shoulders opening with every move. Malfoy frowned at Hermione and she watched as he didn't offer Snape a Healing Potion but swallowed two down himself. "Severus cannot eat unless fed directly from…_Master's_ hand," Malfoy spat in a voice so hoarse and ruined that Hermione flinched, the bond still allowing him hatred for Harry but not allowing him to express it in anything other than words. Hermione stared at the two men, boggled, and when Snape dared to throw her a blank glance, she found herself pitying them so much that it hurt inside. What had they done, allowing Harry to take these two men? Had they truly come so far under his charisma and charm that none of them could see what he was planning to do? Even Hermione knew she couldn't fathom some of the things Harry was planning, but she had hoped the remnants of the happy boy she had befriended during their school years would changed Harry's mind and convince him to treat his slaves like something resembling people.

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione whispered, and she quickly ruffled through all of the options that were no longer open to her. "Can you at least drink, Professor?"

Snape didn't move, and Malfoy answered for him as he picked another lump of bread from the loaf. "Yes, but with limitations. Severus can only drink if it from Master's hand or from a glass only Master had touched. May I give my advice in this matter, Madame Granger?"

"It's Krum now," Hermione breathed, and the two men exchanged unknown glances, seeing something in her words that she couldn't name. "And of course…sir."

Malfoy flinched and quickly shook his head, touching Snape on his branded forearm when the sallow man looked like he was going to bolt or throw up. "Madame Krum, Master had…told us that we are to be…" Malfoy swallowed thickly and spoke to his knees, "addressed as Slave Malfoy and Slave Snape. _Master_ will…" but Snape's quick shake of his head stopped Malfoy's words and the pale man turned his cautious attention to Hermione, who couldn't stop himself from nearly staring at them. "I advise that you do not attempt to feed or water Severus. Master will be…most displeased. Severus will be healed when Master deems it acceptable." Malfoy turned slightly away from her, and Hermione watched as Snape's black gaze locked soullessly on the door, as if waiting for her to leave.

"What has he done to you?" Hermione whispered, and knelt forward, wrapping her hands in her dust-ridden robes and wondering if she could somehow convince Harry that no matter what these two wizards did, they were still people and deserved to be treated as such.

Malfoy's thin lips pinched shut and Snape's entire face hardened into a thin line; she had surely crossed a line that was never meant to be drawn in the first place. "If you truly wish to know, Madame Krum…" Malfoy began, but Hermione stopped him before he could continue. Malfoy's pale grey eyes flickered over to her and then landed on the partially eaten loaf of bread at his knees. "Both Severus and I…_thank_ you for your kind deeds."

Hermione pushed listlessly to her feet and roughly pulled Harry's missive from her pocket, trying to see past what he had written and to what he meant.

_Hermione,_

_I am meeting with Fudge at mid-morning and expect the meeting to take up more time than I wish to give to him. However, my pets need care and you are the only one I will trustingly lay them in your hands. If you need reminding, do not dare touch a single hair on their heads; I will know if you have disturbed even their skin. I do not care what you feed or give them to drink; I approve use of any matter of Healing Potions and I also give permission for you to cast any spell you wish on either one of them; if I do not approve of the spell, the wards will deflect the spell back onto you, so I give you caution before you step into my quarters. Remember, I will not hesitate to hurt your precious Viktor if you even look over the line; do you recall what I did to little Ginny?_

_Harry_

She pulled out her wand and ignored the look of abject fear Snape quickly hid behind his hair. Harry had only had the men for a week; had he broken them so quickly? She had sworn to herself even before she had a clear plan of what Harry would do that she would do everything to help whomever he had chosen to be kept as his, and even though she had not liked either of them, she would hold fast to that promise and not deter in her quest for a single moment.

"_Libero_," Hermione whispered, hoping beyond hope that it would, at the very least, take the chains off their arms and their waists, but Malfoy's wide eyes told her that it would do otherwise; suddenly, as Malfoy presented his newly scarred back to her to protect Snape, a flash of gold shuttered in front of the two men and Hermione wondered if she had made a mistake she never should have thought of in the first place.

As the world faded in and out in front of her, Hermione felt herself fall into strong arms and she heard Harry's hissing laugh echo in her ear, and she knew that what she had done would have never been thought of if she had never met Harry at all. 


	5. Chapter Five, Cornered

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Replacement for the Stars**

Chapter Five:  
Cornered

(O.o)

Hermione came to in her husband's familiar arms, her head tucked against his chest and his hands resting securely on her hips. She looked absently around and vacantly noted that she was in Dumbledore's old office, with the man's massive desk gone and replaced by a copy of the chair Harry kept in the empty Great Hall. Hermione only barely managed to curb her smile; before Harry had killed him, Dumbledore had covered his office in more wards than Hermione had ever heard of to not allow usage of Dark spells and curses—Harry didn't have a chance. Hermione attempted to straighten up, but a sudden, dark pain in her head and Viktor's thin hands on her shoulders made her stop; and her husband pressed a small vial into her hand. She didn't have to look at it to know what it was—a Clarity Potion—and she swallowed it immediately, forcing herself not to notice the obvious absence of Dumbledore's portrait on the wall.

Harry's thin face radiated contentment, a small, pleased smirk contorting his features, and Hermione, horrified, saw Snape lean his head trustingly into Harry's thigh while Malfoy, obviously attempting to resist the pleasure the bond was putting him through, sat rigidly while Harry pet his golden hair. "Welcome back, Hermione," Harry murmured, and he leaned back slightly in his chair, Snape moving back and looking wide-eyed up at Harry. "Good pet," Harry whispered, and both of the men at his feet flushed in pleasure; Malfoy even turned his head into Harry's hand for a moment, as if forgetting himself. "You've been out for about three hours, and your Viktor has been dreadfully worried." His voice was deep and cloying, like thick honey, and Hermione watched Snape and Malfoy drown in it.

Jerkily, she turned to her husband, seeing nothing amiss in his face but knowing that Harry had done something to him, if only to teach her a lesson. Without thought for the other three men in the room, Hermione pushed her fingers into Viktor's mouth and froze when she felt the man's tongue whisper around the thin digits. She whipped around, ignoring the dizziness of her head, and clutched her husband's thin hands to her stomach. "Harry, you said you would…"

Harry smiled and leaned forward, reaching one hand down to caress Malfoy's long neck; although Malfoy obviously tried to restrain himself, the blond man let out a wanton groan and his head fell back, muted grey eyes locked desperately on Harry's face. Snape leaned comfortingly into Harry's side and Hermione watched in horror as Snape's long fingers twisted in Harry's shirt, as if scared he was going to be left alone. "Punish your Viktor? Yes, I did, but only if you went over the line. I fully expected you to attempt to release them, and therefore you crossed no boundaries." His thin face turned cruel and violent, and Hermione clutched Viktor closer as Harry's hand closed around Malfoy's exposed throat. "I was very clear that you were not to touch either of my little slaves, and you did not; therefore, I will not punish your Viktor." Absently, Harry looked down at Malfoy and frowned at his hand, as if only noticing how it had been closed around Malfoy's throat. "Also, I need your assistance in eradicating a batch of recruits I have found to be disloyal."

Hermione leaned forward, interested only in Snape's strange behavior, and after a curious glance over the two men, her mouth dropped open. There, resting on each man's defined collarbones, were two stones, one ruby and the other garnet, nested in the thin flesh as if they had always been there. Harry chuckled gruffly and looked down at Snape, tracing the stones with relish.

"Ah, you noticed my little addition. I can give you a stone for Viktor, if you wish." Harry's green eyes glittered and he watched Viktor's face go strangely blank; he had had his suspicions about the Bulgarian ever since he had seen the courting letters sent to Hermione, wrapped in the scent of ancient libraries and the sweet smell of Quidditch grass. "The spell is simple. However, that is for a later moment. I will meet with you at daybreak tomorrow to discuss the recruits; goodnight, Hermione." Harry stood and Hermione watched as Snape and Malfoy both pushed to their feet, standing a good foot behind Harry, and the trio stormed out of Dumbledore's office; after he was gone, the magic that had comforted Hermione suddenly crumbled, and she knew what Harry had done. 


	6. Chapter Six, Chosen

Please note the new warnings.

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse. Cannibalism. Torture. Castration.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Replacement for the Stars**

Chapter Six:  
Chosen

(O.o)

Harry lifted his wand and watched Malfoy cower under his look, while Snape merely knelt in the corner, watching him through hooded black eyes, as if what Harry could do to him would be of no consequence, that he had suffered through so much worse, and Harry nearly screamed. He turned on Snape and cast a violent severing charm, which seared through the tendons in Snape's hands and left him limp from the wrist down. Snape screeched and Harry smirked, using another hex to twist Snape's long and painted fingers into distorted mockeries of hands; if Snape ever escaped him, there would be no possible way the man would ever brew his precious potions again.

Harry listened greedily to Snape's dying whimpers of pain and silently Summoned the rest of the loaf of bread he had left for Hermione to feed to Malfoy. Harry patted his thigh as he settled himself into the seat in front of the fireplace, and Snape obediently crawled over, limping on just his knees. Harry looked at the deep cave in the lost black eyes and wondered when the two men had changed on him. He had expected Snape to be the tough one, to be the one that he would take the most pleasure breaking to his will, but it had only taken the collar and the brands for Snape to be broken to him; Malfoy had been the difficult one, resisting him at every turn and giving Harry vicious looks when he had to do what Harry told him to, and it had been a pleasant surprise. Draco Malfoy had always turned into a coward when faced with physical violence, but his father had been deliciously the opposite.

Harry looked detachedly at Snape's ruined hands and dipped a bit of bread in the blood pooling at Snape's knuckles. He held it to Snape's lips and the man, without pause, opened his mouth and ate his own blood without a word. Harry repeated the action until Snape was no longer bleeding, and when he pet the man's greasy hair in reward, Snape leaned his head into Harry's hand and nudged him when he moved away. Harry wondered what was going through Snape's head but ignored the thought as he turned to Malfoy's frigid face, wondering if…Harry smiled, the cruelty of the look casting a sinister mask over his face, and Malfoy's eyes widened, feeling Harry's malice sweep throughout him to his bones.

(O.o)

Snape knelt on the hard stone floor at Harry's feet, resting his chin on Harry's knee and watching his Master's every movement with quick black eyes. Harry absently pet Snape's thick hair as he leaned forward over the edge of the hastily Conjured table, watching interestedly as Malfoy brought the knife down on his right thigh, crudely hacking out another small section of flesh and muscle. Tears Malfoy couldn't stop swayed down his pointed face, his entire body shuddering with resistance to what Harry was telepathically ordering him to do, but he couldn't make himself stop. Harry plucked the thick section of skin off the table that dropped from Malfoy's pale, blood-stained leg, and dismissively fed it to Snape, who carefully licked the blood from Harry's fingers after he swallowed the raw meat.

Harry frowned and prodded the three sections of Malfoy's thigh where he had carved his own body and smirked when Malfoy grunted in pain and then swayed on top of the table. "Pet," Harry mumbled, and Snape looked up, greedy to serve. "Fetch me a Blood Replenishing Potion." Snape nodded and stumbled to his feet, clutching his ruined hands to his chest, and he scrambled to the small cabinet where Harry kept potions, most of them which Snape had made himself, once long ago, in a world he could no longer recall. The cabinet was thankfully touch-sensitive, and it sprung open obediently, Snape eagerly looking for the familiar blood-red potion. He found two vials of it and mentally juggled taking only one or both of them back; quickly, he decided to take them both, and Snape asked the cabinet to close before he scampered to kneel breathlessly at Harry's feet. He handed the two potions up to the seated man like a sacrifice, eyes unwillingly betraying his secret fear, and Harry gifted him with a brief touch to his lips with the tips of his fingers, eyes distant.

Harry handed the first Blood-Replenishing Potion to Malfoy and quietly ordered the man to drink it. He leaned back in his chair and wondered just how far this bond would force Malfoy to desecrate himself. Slowly, he canted forward and with a touch of his hand, Malfoy's small shorts vanished, leaving the pale, prideful man completely bare, and after a moment, Malfoy's entire face twisted in horror, as if he knew what Harry was going to have him do.

Harry shivered in pleasure and gave the order, greedily clutching Snape's hair as Malfoy cut himself apart, and without a thought, he told Snape to suck him off, almost unsurprised when black eyes lit up. He fucked the hot, wet cavern, pulling Snape's hair and growing even harder when Snape moaned, and he forced himself to only come when Malfoy had finished, leaving himself no better than a pre-pubescent boy.

Harry looked down to see Snape glowing in pleasure, licking his lips and resting his head contentedly against Harry's thigh, and he yanked the sallow man's head back, forcing the thin lips to open. "Hand me them, Malfoy," Harry bit out, looking up again to make sure he had actually forced the man he hated so much to do what he had always wanted done, and then placed half of Malfoy's scrotum on Snape's tongue. "Eat it, pet." Snape complied, and his look didn't change, as if he wanted to devour Malfoy one step at a time, and when Malfoy fainted, Snape obediently ate the second half, licking Harry's palm afterwards, even though there was no blood.

(O.o)

Harry stepped around Malfoy's trembling body, wondering if he should heal the man or leave him to bleed, but remembering Snape's utter surrender made him only want to force Malfoy to hurt himself more. Snape was laid out in front of the fire, close enough for the heat to scorch but not for the flames to burn, and he was purring in his sleep, quietly mumbling Harry's name under his breath.

Harry turned to Malfoy, seeing wide grey eyes jerk away from his face and land on his feet; "I find myself despising you more than I ever hated Snape," Harry began, and reluctantly cast a Stitching Charm on Malfoy's gaping wound, leaving the three holes in his thigh for later. Malfoy moaned and clutched what was left of his groin, not daring to glare at Harry. "Which is why I am bringing your son here and why you are going to be the one to inform him of the sudden freeze and then removal of his familial vaults. If you do not comply, what I will have you do next will be nothing compared to castrating yourself." He smirked triumphantly and then shivered with glee when Malfoy snarled in response, his voice still weak from pain.

"And what do you think could be worse, _Master_?" Malfoy spat, using the title like a curse, but didn't dare meet Harry's eyes. "Cut out my eyes? Cut off my nose to spite my face? Destroy my hands like you destroyed Severus's? You have taken my son and my freedom from me; I have nothing left."

"Tsk, tsk," Harry murmured, and Snape jerked awake, flinching when Malfoy glared at him, and desperate black eyes sought out Harry, making sure he had done nothing wrong. "You have the will to live, Malfoy, and that is what I so seek to destroy," he whispered, and sat in his chair; with a look, Snape scrambled over and rested his destroyed hands on Harry's lap, eyes reserved solely for the man above him. Harry leered at Malfoy and then mockingly patted his thigh; the bond ripped at Malfoy's insides and he crawled over to kneel at Harry's feet. "Good pet," Harry whispered, and Malfoy could not stop himself from flushing in pleasure. 


	7. Chapter Seven, Chambered

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse. Torture. Cannibalism.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Replacement for the Stars**

Chapter Seven:  
Chambered

(O.o)

Hermione allowed her husband to pull her into the Great Hall, both of them pausing at the sudden sight of hundreds of supporters and bright, wild chattering, as if people were hopeful at Harry's rise to power. Harry's green gaze unerringly picked her out of the crowd and a small wiggle of his fingers beckoned her over, and now Hermione pulled Viktor to stand at Harry's side, purposefully ignoring Snape practically in Harry's lap and Malfoy in a bird-like cage next to him. Occasionally, Harry reached out and Malfoy would shake in rage, hands clutching and flexing into white-knuckled fists, but he would submit and lick Harry's knuckles, much to the amusement of the small group of recruits crowded at a respectful distance.

Harry waited for a while, toying with Snape's hair and adjusting the man's scarlet collar, and then he turned to Hermione and held out his hand. She huffily handed him the book she had spent the past two days searching for, and Harry absently leafed through it, resting the spine on the top of Snape's head. Hermione glanced over Malfoy and noted the odd way the man was sitting, as if he was uncomfortable, and the three scabbed-over notches in his right thigh, too thick and wide to be accidental. Harry nodded and then looked over his troops, the entire Great Hall quieting in a matter of moments. He dropped the book to rest at his feet and purposefully clutched Snape's hand, further twisting the broken and wrecked digits, causing Snape to go completely still and whimper into Harry's stomach.

"I have good news, my followers," Harry announced, and leaned forward, pushing Snape down to crumple dejectedly at his feet. "Today, we lose another potential opponent." The entire Great Hall burst into cheers and half of the recruits stomped their feet and screamed Harry's name. "Today, Draco Malfoy will burn in Hell." The response was exactly as Harry envisioned it: utter chaos, everyone cheering for _him_.

Hermione turned her head away and realized the knowledge she had been keeping from herself ever since she had first set eyes on the passage Harry had needed. A cool hand held onto her arm and steadied her; Hermione looked back and could only focus on the cool emerald fused into Viktor's lips, the stone Harry had gifted her with without telling her what it would do. But his dark brown eyes still burned with love, and they told her everything he could not, and Hermione relaxed, turning back with renewed strength. She had promised Harry she would follow him to whatever end, and Hermione Granger never went back on a promise, no matter how she wished to.

"Bring him in," Harry drawled, and the Entrance Hall doors creaked open, exposing three silhouettes against the suddenly bright sunshine. Draco Malfoy stalked in, followed by Bill Weasley and Remus Lupin, who shadowed the Malfoy Heir to Harry's throne before blending in with the shadows.

"Father!" Draco cried, and Malfoy stood up on shaking legs, reaching through the bars to his son. They embraced without hesitation, the only thing separating them the bars that enclosed Malfoy, and Harry watched idly, without concern; he had specifically told Malfoy he would be allowed contact with his son, for only a limited period of time, before he cursed Draco through the wall for touching what was his. He was still human, after all. Draco stepped back and turned to Harry, wand raised and his pale body shaking underneath his designer, personally tailored robes. "What have you done to my father? Release him immediately!" Draco bellowed, and Harry only reacted by placing his foot on Snape's stomach and pulling his pet underneath his chair. Snape latched onto his touch and wouldn't release Harry from his grasp, which was acceptable as long as Harry didn't have to move.

"I have only done what the world owes me, Malfoy," Harry rasped, and then motioned to the hundreds of his followers standing in furious silence behind the Malfoy Heir. "I was given a gift."

"A gift?" Malfoy sputtered, and he finally caught sight of Snape caressing the length of Harry's toes. "What the…_Snape_? Let them go, Potter!" Snape looked up so quickly that his vision blurred, and his entire small world emptied when Harry stood up and stepped out of his grasp. Had he done something wrong? Was he not supposed to touch when it sent those fissions of pleasure down the bond, curling around his insides and keeping him warm when Harry was so cold? Was he supposed to be in the cage with Malfoy?

"Let them go, Malfoy? You expect me, the one who sacrificed _everything_ so pompous little gits like you could live, to simply release my only reward?" Harry's face curdled into something dangerous, something that Hermione had never seen before. "Take them, then, little Malfoy. See how quickly their entire body will burn when they are not in my presence, see how your precious father cannot move, let alone speak, when I am not there to order him, see how little pet Snape will starve to death because you think I do not deserve my reward." He motioned with an elaborate flourish at Malfoy, sitting death-still in his cage, and smiled, the look casting his face into something inhuman. "Take him, then, Malfoy. Go ahead, take your father."

Draco sent a distrustful glare Harry's way, and without a single glance at Snape, he stepped towards the cage and flicked his wand. "_Alomohora_," he mumbled, and the cage disappeared; Draco's eyes went wide—was Harry's skill so advanced he could create a cage out of locks? It was almost unheard of—but he rushed forward to look at his twitching, mess of a father. What had become of the tall man made out of stone from his childhood? What had happened to his father? He turned to Harry and looked between his father and the smirking green-eyed man, stained fingers creeping on ruined pads towards Harry's bare feet. "What have you done?" he breathed.

Harry didn't reply, only turned to idly look at Malfoy's crumpled form. "Have you anything to say, Malfoy?"

"Yes, _Master_," Malfoy spat, and looked to his son, ignoring the disgust gracing the pointed features. "I, as Lord Malfoy, do disinherit my heir, Draco Malfoy, and Banish him from my sight." Destroyed, Draco could only look to Harry's triumphant face and the way he lounged so comfortably in the plain chair, how he had so easily turned Draco inside out without doing anything. He escaped before he could see the sorrow in his father's eyes, and his father's final words to him were of passing the title of Lord Malfoy to Harry, as well as all of his assets and properties.

Three days later, huddling in the Forbidden Forest, a nondescript brown owl found him, and Draco clutched the letter, seeing the words as a way to save his world. 


	8. Chapter Eight, Curved

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse. Torture. Cannibalism.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Replacement for the Stars**

Chapter Eight:  
Curved

(O.o)  
One Month Later

No gaze met his as he stalked through the suddenly empty halls of the Ministry of Magic, two men scuttling after him with newfound terror in their gazes. They knew how to act in the privacy of Harry's chambers and how to act when in front of the Legion, but they had been given no specific orders for this situation. The smaller of the two, the one with long, greasy black hair, limped hurriedly after his Master, his ruined hands and forearms clutched habitually to his chest, eyes only leaving Harry's back to make sure no one came too close to him. The blond one stalked confidently just behind the black-haired man, the wounds in his legs healed only to be ripped out again at a later date. He had been ordered to protect Harry and Snape, even at the expense of his life, and although he still threw Harry glares of hatred, he followed without complaint.

Malfoy had grown softer in the past month, the sudden lack of testosterone flooding his system turning his body into something he did not recognize, but as he now only was required to cut off the slabs of fat Harry somehow saw on him, he did not care, only hoping that Harry wouldn't suddenly see his legs as fat and then make him walk on his hands everywhere. He could feel Harry's accomplished strut rutting through his system, and when they turned down a narrow hallway to the Minister's office, Malfoy could not stop himself from decisively deciding that Harry had a marvelous arse.

Harry ignored the triage woman's flustered blubberings and instead walked straight into Fudge's office, glaring at the unknown man sitting across from Fudge until the man left. He closed the door behind his pets and took a seat, Snape slumping at his feet and Malfoy standing protectively behind him, grey eyes watching the Minister's every move.

"Ma-Master Potter!" Fudge squeaked, nervously wringing his hands, and he looked down at his desk, as if it would suddenly tell him how to gracefully back out of this situation without being slaughtered. "What—what is it you needed from me?"

Harry waited until Fudge started sweating, those green eyes staring at him from the thin face, and slowly, Harry began to smile, passing his wand from hand to hand as he drolly outlined his plan to put Fudge in his proper place—at the bottom of a river.

(O.o)

Harry looked over the edge of the crumbling Astronomy Tower, watching Snape's face go white as he attempted to hold onto the edge with only his upper arms, as he could no longer use his hands or forearms. "Now, pet, tell me what you did wrong," Harry purred, and Snape whined in the back of his mouth, struggling to speak through a throat that did not work. "Oh, you can't? Very well. I have more important business to attend to, as it were." Harry purposefully turned away and left Snape by himself, struggling only to survive.

Snape hefted himself up with more strength than he thought he had and peeked over the edge of the wall Harry had purposefully pushed him over. He watched in violent desperation as Harry turned the corner and left him alone; he mewled loudly and kicked at the stones, hoping to catch purchase with his feet, even though every movement hurt the ligaments in his legs, the tendons that Harry had idly set a burning curse down just to see what Snape would do. He hadn't been able to walk for a week, but that had been rectified by Harry having Malfoy carry him everywhere, which both slaves had completely hated. They had gone into this horror as comrades in something too evil to speak of, but by this time, they were bitter enemies, but whenever Malfoy would say something mean to him, Snape would only remember the warmth of Malfoy's freshly cut scrotum sliding down his throat and he would know that no matter what, he had won.

Snape's left foot scraped along the wall and found a toehold in the tiniest crevice, but he used it to desperately push himself up, shuddering at the pain that echoed throughout his entire being when he had no choice but to scrabble at the wall with his disfigured hands. He whimpered and whined, and had almost rescued himself when harsh hands yanked him up and over the wall and he looked up to see Malfoy's pointed face set in stone above him, the taller man so furious it could turn a man inside-out.

Snape stiffened and tried to scramble away, but Malfoy's hands and knees stopped him, holding him in place. Suddenly, he knew why Harry had left him here—to be punished by Malfoy, a vindictive ploy to punish Snape for thinking that Harry liked him more, even if it was a passing fancy when Harry would be thrusting in and out of his mouth, too fast for Snape to do anything but hold on with his eyes, feeling like he was being used, something that he had once hated, but when it came from Harry, it made his stomach swoop and his clothes, if Harry had him wearing any, tighten. Harry had never used Malfoy for sex—it had always been Snape—and Malfoy had always been the one to receive physical punishment and Snape would be the one who would be so thanklessly used when Harry watched Malfoy cut himself and Snape eating the raw flesh Harry would feed him.

He shook his head, as if it would dissuade Malfoy from whatever he was going to do, and when Malfoy leered and yanked his knees apart, Snape paled and did his best to get away, but Malfoy was stronger and more powerful than him, and he screeched, unable to beg when it was all he wanted to do. He had never—Harry hadn't—no! Malfoy couldn't take _that_ from him, not when Harry hadn't ever wanted it enough to take it when Snape was so freely offering it. If it had been an order, one that he had heard from Harry, Snape would have complied, even though he would have closed his eyes and wished it was Harry the entire time, but he would have done what Harry wanted. But Malfoy's eyes were too cruel and his hands too harsh for this to be an order; and Harry would want to be here, Snape suddenly knew, and he looked wildly around for the green-eyed man, hoping that he would be chuckling in the shadows, mocking Snape for his weaknesses.

"Oh, Severus," Malfoy rumbled, and ducked his head forward, yanking Snape's head up with a rough hand in his hair. Harry had treated him the same on so many occasions, but it wasn't the same…Snape wildly shook his head, trying to push Malfoy away, hoping that Harry would walk into the Astronomy Tower at any second and tell him it had been a test, a test to see if he was really loyal, but as the seconds ticked by, and Harry didn't appear, Snape saw more and more clearly what Malfoy was going to do. Snape whined but froze when Malfoy's hand wandered down to his throat, palm resting on the ruby nestled in his skin.

Grey eyes brightened dangerously and Malfoy looked down, twisting his fingers over the ruby, and with a deft pluck, he snatched the ruby out of Snape's skin, and Snape screeched, scrabbling uselessly for the jewel. With a sneer, Malfoy snatched the garnet and Snape felt suddenly empty, as if his brands had suddenly disappeared, and his collar had fallen off, and he looked up to see Malfoy's victorious face creeping slowly closer to his.

Faintly, he submitted, hoping that now, when it looked somewhat consensual, Harry wouldn't even come close to the Astronomy Tower, that Harry would never know, that he wouldn't see the two bloodless holes in Snape's chest and wonder where his jewels had gone.

(O.o)

Harry was reading Viktor's response to one of his questions when something began to burn in his pocket. He excused himself and looked at the ruby; in a fit of insanity, he had assigned a jewel each to Snape and Malfoy, for the rare chance that they were hurt by someone other than his own hand. Harry shrugged and wandered up to the Astronomy Tower, half-heartedly wondering if Snape had fallen to his death, and he paused just outside, hearing Snape's familiar screech of pain—but it was close, as if he had somehow gotten inside, and then there were the sounds of clothes against skin, and he burst in, seeing first how Snape's eyes were averted from the face in front of him and the lack of erection in the bare lap, and then Malfoy's shaved blond head twisting around and then Malfoy falling on his face, the bond informing Harry of what he had almost done.

Rage filtered up from Harry's feet, engulfing him in white-hot heat, and he parted it long enough to bark, "Here, pet," and feel Snape's head butt his thigh, a tremor unseen in the sallow man before shaking his shoulders. Harry tilted his head down and looked at Snape's upturned face, the black eyes brightening upon meeting his, and then he leaned over and fondled the two empty holes where his jewels had once sat. Snape paled and turned his head away, resting his cheek against Harry's hand, and for a moment, his ruined fingers plucked at Harry's palm, but then Harry turned to Malfoy and in one fell swoop, everything that had happened before this, everything that had caused him to hate these two men with such ferocity, with such severity that he wanted to dominate and destroy them, flashed in front of his eyes.

But then it was over, and he was cursing Malfoy with spells he had never heard of before, curses and hexes that not even Voldemort had known, and when he was done, Snape was crumpled at his feet and licking his toes and Malfoy was a bloody heap of flesh and bones, a heap that Harry spelled to his quarters before turning to look down at Snape, the two jewels back in their rightful places. "Good pet," he mumbled, and knelt down to gift Snape with the one thing Snape had been wishing for—a kiss, a proper lips-to-lips meeting that had Snape floating inside of himself with ecstasy, and he leaned up, following Harry to his feet, and when Harry pulled away, there was nothing but satisfaction in the glittering emerald depths.

Snape did nothing to hide his partial erection during the walk down to Harry's chambers; if anyone saw him in such a state, then he was proud to have a Master who could give him such pleasure. 


	9. Chapter Nine, Curdled

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse. Torture. Cannibalism.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Replacement for the Stars**

Chapter Nine:  
Curdled

(O.o)

Harry was not surprised to see Hermione tending Malfoy's wounds when he and Snape arrived in his quarters. He had purposefully sent Malfoy careening past her quarters so he could have more fun with the man after she had healed him. There were parts of him that Snape hadn't tried yet, and Harry loved seeing the different expressions on Snape's face when he would taste different parts, such as the abject pleasure that had suffused Snape's entire body when he had swallowed Malfoy's scrotum, but the badly-hidden distaste when he had tasted the heel of Malfoy's foot; his little pet was so sensitive, so different from the man Harry had hated so violently for so long.

Harry dropped down into his chair as he watched Hermione tend to Malfoy, Snape purposefully settling between his legs and rubbing his cheek against Harry's groin. His pet always knew, Harry reflected ruefully, and he looked down at Snape, tilting up the familiar chin to meet nervous black eyes; Snape was always so obvious, and he never realized that if he went out of line, Harry would let him know faster than he could catch the Snitch. With a sharp nod of assent, Snape glowed as he gently released Harry from his cloth prison, resting his cheek against Harry's cock as his eyes fluttered shut. Harry's hands surged into Snape's hair in anticipation, and he roughly yanked the black locks when Snape fully swallowed him, pumping faster and faster into the hot mouth, until Snape could do nothing but let Harry fuck him ruthlessly, uncaring of Snape's pleasure, and his black eyes shone with pleasure at the obvious gratification he was giving his Master.

Hermione jerked around at the first moan, and she flustered immediately at the sight of Harry fucking Snape's mouth, not knowing if she should stop them or let them continue, but when she heard Snape's small whimpers of pleasure and Harry's quick breaths, muttering _pet_ and other endearments under his breath as he threw his head back, yanking cruelly on Snape's hair and then she couldn't watch any longer, twisting back to look at Malfoy, palming her cheeks when she could feel a violent blush coming on. The sounds lasted for quite a while, much longer than Viktor could last, and then when Harry gave out a last, ancient trembling sigh, and there was the sudden sound of Snape licking some part of Harry's skin she didn't want to know about, Hermione knew it was over, but she couldn't bear to look at Harry or Snape when she had seen them do something like that. So she focused on Malfoy, forcing herself to feel horror at his wounds, but knowing that she would escape once Malfoy was healed enough to survive the night.

It was Harry's murmurings in the moments after that made Hermione blink with amazement, however, the kindness in his voice and the tenderness of his tone. "Good pet," Harry whispered, and Snape bunched up with joy, barely able to stop himself from rutting against Harry's leg, still licking the sweat from Harry's skin. "Yes, that's my good pet. Nobody will touch you like I touch you, pet, because you're my precious pet." Snape glowed with pleasure and he allowed himself one press of his aching erection to Harry's leg, but no more than that, knowing that if he went any further, Harry's sudden kindness would turn into something deadly. He traced unknown drawings on Harry's clothed thighs and clumsily tucked Harry back into his pants, embarrassed at how he could not use his hands with any delicacy. "Hermione," Harry drawled, untwisting one of his hands from Snape's hair, "what's your diagnosis?"

Hermione glanced back over her shoulder and then turned fully around when she saw that Harry was fully clothed. She had seen both Snape and Malfoy nude enough that it was no longer startling, but she purposefully ignored the erection in Snape's lap, knowing that it was Harry's territory, and if she even looked at it, Harry would turn her into a worse version of what he had done to Malfoy. "He will live. With careful application of potions, he will possibly awake tomorrow and be completely lucid by tomorrow night."

Harry nodded, almost thoughtfully, and looked down at Snape, as if seeing him for the first time. "Is there any way he can be awoken now?"

Hermione turned back, looking critically over the mass of weeping cuts and bruises, but she shrugged and didn't dare to look at Harry's calculating features. "It is possible," she admitted, and wondered if she should have left the moment she heard Harry returning. "I can heal more of his wounds and he should awake on his own, but it could be dangerous, as he could go into shock."

Harry's lack of response told her that he didn't care if Malfoy turned into a tree, he only wanted him alive to do unspeakable, horrible things to him. 


	10. Chapter Ten, Classy

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse. Torture. Cannibalism.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Replacement for the Stars**

Chapter Ten:  
Classy

(O.o)

Snape clutched the legs of the chair in front of him as he tried to ignore his throbbing erection. Before this, he had barely touched himself, let alone known what to do in any sort of sexual situation, and that lack of experience showed obviously through here when he didn't know how to ask Harry if he could bring himself off. He rested his head against Harry's calf, wondering if he could one day press himself to the long muscle and feel it flex against his cock, and then he could move up and press himself to the curve of Harry's knee, and Harry close his leg so he was squeezing Snape's erection until he thought it would be cut in half, and then he would be allowed to give Harry a blowjob and then he would explode all over himself; and hoping beyond hope, he wanted for Harry to only touch him once down there, so he would know the sensation of someone's hand on him, because he knew it would be rude to ask for anything more. It was an honor to be allowed to be so close to the heat of Harry that he wouldn't even think of asking his Master for more.

Harry's brusque hands quickly turned Snape around and the long calf Snape had watched longingly pressed against his chest, one of the feet Snape knew so well dropping down just in front of his aching erection, as if Harry was mocking him with the knowledge that he would never know what it was like to press himself to another man's skin and feel himself explode from the sheer sensation of it. But Snape preened at the touch of Harry's skin against his and rested his head against Harry's skin.

Harry looked down at his unfortunate pet and wondered if he should have Malfoy jack Snape off, but he had a feeling that what Malfoy was going to do to Snape in the Astronomy Tower would be completed if he allowed Malfoy near his pet. He had obtrusively placed his leg in front of Snape's erection, as an invitation, but Snape either didn't want to or didn't understand, so Harry adjusted himself and pressed his calf to Snape, causing his pet to suddenly, riotously thrust forward, wildly caress and rut against Harry's leg, lips mouthing things Snape could no longer speak against Harry's skin, and it was only moments before Snape exploded, slumping back against Harry, the back of his head resting on Harry's stomach. Harry looked blankly at his pet's contented features before Banishing the mess and then turning his attention to Malfoy, who was slowly awakening under Hermione's spells.

"You may leave, Hermione," Harry suddenly allowed her, and Hermione escaped without another word, blushing furiously at the memory of hearing Snape getting off on only rutting against Harry's leg. "Ah, Malfoy. Do you remember our agreement of you being allowed to walk around Hogwarts without supervision?"

Malfoy snorted and stiffly turned his head to glare at Harry. Snape caught the look and retreated, tucking his head against Harry's warm groin and staring down at his knees, thrusting them into his chest. "_Master_, our agreement was that I was given an hour, in which I would touch no one, be seen by no one, and if I assaulted anyone, you would _punish_ me." Malfoy rolled his eyes and tried to sit up, but Harry stopped him with an icy glare.

"Yes, slave. Now that I see what you almost did to my pet, I have to ask: what part of your body do you value least?"

(O.o)

Snape looked curiously at Harry's offering but ate it anyway, feeling the salty inner liquid explode against his mouth and nearly make him gag. He tried to hide it but Harry petting his hair told him it was okay, and Snape shuddered, shaking his head wildly. "Very well, pet," Harry mused, and looked up at the man clutching a bloody knife just across from them. "We'll let him keep his other eye since you dislike them so much." Harry leaned forward, glancing over Malfoy's branded chest and the two jewels jammed into the skin above his collarbones, and his gaze rested on Malfoy's pectorals. "Left or right, pet?"

Snape shrugged and after a moment, licked Harry's left hand. Harry nodded and rewarded Snape with a caress to his cheek. "Cut off your left pectoral muscle," Harry tonelessly ordered, and he comfortably leaned back to watch the process. He had learned a spell to exponentially speed up the healing process a week or so prior, and had been using it on Malfoy all night—a bonus was that it was excruciating, so he had the opportunity to see Malfoy cry twice. Malfoy obeyed with a furious glare, letting out crude cut-off sobs and unwilling to shake away his tears as he sawed through skin and muscle. Snape had nearly fallen asleep by the time Malfoy was done, and Harry had to roughly prod him awake; "Pet, eat this." Snape obeyed and licked the blood off Harry's hands as Malfoy screamed, hitting himself in the thigh with the butt of the knife as his chest healed into a shiny white scar, creasing over where his nipple had once been.

Snape's hands dropped to his stomach, where his belly was full, a tight and warm drum against his skin, and he nuzzled Harry's thigh contentedly, wishing he could stay here all night, but the nightly ritual was the same and Snape always hated it. He and Malfoy were stuck together on the two dog beds at the foot of Harry's bed, and once Harry fell asleep, Malfoy usually kept Snape awake with cruel examples of how Harry liked him more than Snape, with threats that he would be strangled if he fell asleep, and he knew that this night would be the worst of all.

To his surprise, Harry locked them in a cage together and looked softly at Snape, who keened loudly for him and pressed himself into the corner closest to Harry's bed, realizing that they were floating above their usual small beds, just at Harry's eye level, where if either of them did something Harry didn't approve of, he would be able to see it immediately. Harry stopped Snape's mental sigh of relief with a cruel glare. "Don't think I don't know of your petty games, Malfoy, and if you try anymore of them, it won't be small parts you'll be cutting off. I know of some healthy parts on you that pet has not tried yet. Do not test me."

Harry turned onto his side and went promptly to sleep, and Malfoy kept Snape up all night with tales of terror, with a story about love so twisted it made a man kill himself. 


	11. Chapter Eleven, Curved

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse. Torture. Cannibalism.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Replacement for the Stars**

Chapter Eleven:  
Curved

(O.o)

Harry relaxed easily back into the chair on the opposite side of Fudge's desk, hearing the man speak but ignoring everything the Minister said. He watched as Fudge nervously patted his forehead with his handkerchief, as Fudge smoothed the front of his robes with twitching hands, as Fudge kept glancing behind him and then at the door to Harry's right. Harry's detection charms had told him that they were the only two in the room, but by Fudge's actions, it was almost as if someone was hiding behind something that even Harry's spells could not find. Harry only frowned and dangled his right hand off the chair, almost surprised when a soft cheek did not suddenly present itself, and he looked down, remembering too late that he had left Malfoy and Snape outside the office, a suspicion burgling his mind until he could do nothing other than think of it.

"You will step down within the next month, citing claims of health problems. I will personally make sure that there will be no problems with this. After you step down, there will be mild hysteria in the Wizarding world, and this will be dealt with an election for another Minister of Magic. I will also personally make sure that each and every one of these potential Ministers will be eradicated before the election, and when the Wizarding world is on the verge of collapse, I will step forward. You will tell no one of this, and I have already placed a Muting Curse on you if this conversation even comes to mind.

"Before you begin the process of resigning, you will slowly start appearing in the executive ward of St. Mungo's. You will make these appointments yourself, and with Healer Fleece. She will examine you in a special room and she will tell you that you have Wizard Flu. You will explain that it is impossible for you to have the flu because you were vaccinated against it when you were a child. She will then tell you it is a new strand and she will give you a case of potions. You will take one of these potions a day. You will tell me when you have each appointment with her, and then you will report to me after each appointment. In three weeks, you will off-handedly ask your assistant what the procedure is for resigning as Minister. She will fret but explain, and two days later, she will give you the documents to fill out to resign. You will officially resign four days after you receive the papers, and you will announce your resignation the day after you fill out the documents. I will obviously have to explain it to you again, but am I clear for now?"

Fudge gulped audibly and looked down at his lap. After a few moments, he nodded and looked up at Harry. "I understand, Master Potter," Fudge whispered, and without further ado, Harry looked one last time at the space behind Fudge and then swept out of the Minister's office.

He closed the door behind him and pressed his hand to the wood, feeling Fudge's wards pulse against his hand. Slowly, he dissected them, seeing the Hidden Ward within only moments. Without pause, Harry plucked the chosen ward out of the nest and swallowed it, feeling his magic bloat and then settle contentedly.

He turned and looked down to see Snape's white face turned up to him, eyes blinking too quickly and his lips moving slightly; Malfoy was standing behind his pet, arms crossed over his chest and his remaining eye glaring pits of hatred at Harry. So his suspicions had been correct; Harry leered at Malfoy and then turned to peer at Snape. Snape leaned closer to him and stretched out a twisted hand, as if begging Harry to hold him, and Harry nodded, knowing that he would wait for Malfoy to burn before he put his new plan into action.

(O.o)

"You are allowed to explore Hogwarts on your own again, Malfoy," Harry announced suddenly to the Great Hall, and Malfoy's grey eye brightened before he turned back to Harry and jerkily bowed. "Be back in one hour. I have someone I want you to see." Malfoy nodded and strode off, carefully walking in the middle of the arch that led to the rest of the school, his depth perception still wonky. Harry looked at Snape's comfortable form slumped at his feet and wondered if Snape had any inkling of what Malfoy had done. He hoped it was unlikely that his little pet would even attempt to deceive him, but he couldn't be sure. He would grill the man later.

Bill Weasley, Hermione and Remus Lupin stepped out of the shadows and all inclined their heads to Harry before speaking. Harry watched curiously as the two men carefully kept their eyes off Snape's nude and subservient form; were they pleased or disgusted by what Harry had his slave doing? "Your report?" he drawled, and Snape sat up, suddenly awake at the unfamiliar presences. He curled around Harry's leg and squeezed his eyes shut when Lupin spoke.

"The disloyal recruits have been found and are waiting in the area of the dungeons you specified," Lupin explained. "So far, we have found multiple poisons and two instances of clearly written-out plans for your assassination." Snape's eyes jerked open and he peered fearfully up at Harry, as if he would die right in front of him.

Harry nodded and lifted one thin finger; a carefully crafted Silencing Ward sprung up around them and Harry looked at the three in front of him, automatically dismissing Hermione from his thoughts. "Which one of you can blend in most with the shadows? I have someone I need…followed."

Bill and Lupin glanced at one another and both of them shrugged. "Dunno," Bill drawled, and Harry carefully examined the man's handsome face. "I worked with the goblins, so I theoretically could be very…sneaky, I guess."

Lupin looked unconcerned when Harry turned his gaze to his last link to his parents. "Presumably, me, with my…werewolf abilities." Harry's face ripped apart in a cruel sneer as the man admitted to his 'disease'; Lupin was so _ashamed_ of something he should see as a gift. Harry turned his attention to Hermione, who was determinedly looking at anything but Snape, as if she was ashamed to see her prior Professor in the nude.

"Hermione, tell me what you think," Harry drawled, twisting his fingers in Snape's hair and jerking the man closer, ignoring the sound of skin rasping against stone.

"Lupin," Hermione replied immediately, not meeting Harry's gaze. "I suppose you want someone following Malfoy, as he isn't here. May I ask why?"

Harry only smiled.

(O.o)

Harry allowed Snape to rest his greasy head on Harry's hip as he laid back under the warm summer sky, feeling the sun beat down on his skin. Malfoy had kindly asked permission to go swimming in the lake, and after Harry absently pinched his own thigh to see Snape flinch and then mouth kisses against the place and Malfoy's blank reaction, he had smirked and acquiesced. Harry had removed all of his clothes other than his underwear, and Snape's eyes had gone wider and wider with every piece of fabric removed, and the sallow man had licked his lips and then only stared, as if it was an honor to simply see Harry.

"Good pet," Harry murmured, and Snape flushed and twitched in pleasure, but standing at the edge of the lake, Malfoy didn't even flinch. Had he thought he could get away with it? Had they truly thought he wouldn't realize? Silly wizards, thinking so small of him that he wouldn't notice something as obvious as this. Harry looked down at Snape and met the black eyes locked faithfully on his face. "Pet, what do you think about Malfoy? I know he is not kind to you."

Snape's mouth opened but shut immediately, the automatic reaction cut off by the last spell Voldemort had ever cast. Snape turned his head and looked up at the sky, shrugging his shoulders as if he couldn't care.

"Is there something you would wish to tell me, pet? Does he hurt you? Does he…touch you?" Unholy cruelty flushed Harry's system clean and he had to stop himself from strangling Malfoy at Snape's cautious, terrified nod. "He touches you? When I am not there?" Snape nodded again and Harry slowly stood up, pulling Snape up next to him. "Show me where, pet."

Snape froze but turned his head to look timidly at Harry, gaunt face open and scared. Slowly, the man motioned to his chest and his shoulders, briefly touching the jewels embedded above his collarbones and then down his ruined and burnt forearms, to his hands and then down his torso and lingering over his groin. Snape turned his head away and Harry could so clearly see what he was thinking; it was painful to see the agony, even on someone he hated.

"I am not mad at you, pet." Snape slumped in relief and leant his cheek against Harry's shoulder. "Does he touch you when I am not around?" Snape nodded and one disfigured hand crept closer to Harry's thigh. "Does he touch you when I _am_ around?" Snape paused but slowly nodded, and Harry allowed him to cradle his thigh in destroyed fingers, his misshapen palm pressed haphazardly against Harry's inner thigh. "Have you…said no?" Snape nodded again. "And he does it anyway?" Snape swallowed and didn't move, enough of an answer for Harry. "Good pet. I will reward you later, in front of Legion."

Snape flushed vibrantly but nervously shuffled closer until his side was pressed to Harry's, chin hooked over Harry's shoulder and his cheek only a breath away from Harry's face. Snape hummed in pleasure and cautiously closed his eyes, breathing in time with his Master and seeing visions of how he would be able to please Harry in front of others, so people could see just how good of a slave he really was. 


	12. Chapter Twelve, Caved

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse. Torture. Cannibalism. Murder.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Replacement for the Stars**

Chapter Twelve:  
Caved

(O.o)

Harry looked over his mass of loyal followers, seeing the groups they had segmented into and the way none of them acted even irritated by their fellow faithful. Snape was resting on a small, wine-colored cushion between Harry's feet and Malfoy was suspended in a cage above Harry's Legion, and only a very small percentage of his followers had even noticed the slave dangling naked above them. "My faithful," Harry began, and every face in the Hall turned to him. "There are still traitors amongst us, those who were loyal to Voldemort and Dumbledore in the previous War, those who think I would not notice their lies tainting the air around us. In punishment, I"—here, Harry lifted Snape's head up by his hair—"have not fed my pet for almost a week, and he is very hungry, as you can imagine. He has been spelled to detect any who have even the smallest thought of betraying me, and in precisely two minutes, he will go amongst you and bring every traitor back to me. He has become accustomed to the taste of human flesh and will not hesitate in eating even the youngest of you. For any of you who wish to not receive this punishment, I ask you to step forward now, and I will spare you his cruelty."

Snape leaned against Harry's legs, eyes and skin dull with hunger, the spell pulling beneath his skin, telling him to maim, to kill, to expose. He had thought that his reward would be allowed to bring his Master off in front of Legion, but that was obviously not going to happen, and Snape felt himself almost despondent at the realization. He wanted to prove how good of a slave he was, how he so eagerly served, how much pleasure he could bring, but Harry apparently didn't care. But, for the moment, being able to eat was reward enough, and Snape desperately wished he would be allowed to touch his Master's most personal parts after he had so faithfully served.

After only a few seconds of waiting, a small segment of nervous people shuffled forward and stood stiffly in front of Harry, their eyes nervously flicking to Snape and back again. The spell surged and Snape almost fell forward; traitors, the lot of them! They wanted to hurt his Master, they wanted to betray him, they wanted to kill him! Snape grunted and stared at the group, feeling his Master's magic boil up inside of him, telling him that these people were in no way fit to follow Harry, telling him that they had plans no man should be able to make, and Snape felt a snarl burn up inside of him, a snarl of rage and pain—but Harry's hand on his neck killed everything, and Snape merely slumped back, the back of his head resting against the warm skin above Harry's groin.

A flush of Harry's pride rushed through Snape's system and he almost couldn't stop himself from smiling, so he butted Harry's leg and pressed his lips to the cloth separating him from the smooth skin. "Pet," Harry rumbled, eyes locked on the nervous group of traitors, "go find the others." Snape nodded and stumbled to his feet, limping down the wide stairs and holding his hands to his chest, following the tug of magic to the fidgeting group near the front of the Hall, every eye in the table locked on him.

The magic burned and boiled his skin, causing him to surge forward with a bark of rage—how dare these fools betray his Master!—and he snarled at the group, snapping his teeth. A young boy, with smooth, pale flesh and tender muscles, jumped up from the table and tried to run, but Harry lazily flicked his wand and floated the frozen boy to his throne, looking critically over the boy. "Any more, pet?"

Snape shuffled along throughout the Hall, following the magic, and it tugged again, towards a group, but before Snape could get there, the magic fizzled away and he stood in the middle of the Hall, blinking curiously at a familiar figure, not seeing what was right in front of his face. Snape shrugged as the magic subsided, and he limped up to Harry's chair, stepping around the small pockmarks in the stone where the traitors had disappeared, and he cast a cursory glance over the boy before he slumped, exhausted, at his Master's feet, grumbling contentedly when Harry pet his hair.

High above, in a cage made out of hatred and locks, Malfoy watched the proceedings with something akin to relief flooding his system. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen, Craved

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse. Torture. Cannibalism.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Replacement for the Stars**

Chapter Thirteen:  
Craved

(O.o)

Malfoy looked down at the plate in front of him, disgust marring his features. At the head of the table, Harry relaxed back in his chair, a smaller plate in his lap, with rare-cooked lumps of meat occasionally being fed to Snape. Hermione and Viktor sat across from Malfoy, both of them giving their plates identical looks of horror, and next to them, Bill and Lupin were determinedly looking at anything but the food in front of them, although Lupin's nostrils occasionally flared and his jaw was permanently clenched with restraint. Harry had not eaten anything, but the magic he had stolen from Dumbledore's office earlier that day had filled him with a bloated sense of contentment.

The door to the abandoned classroom opened and Fudge, along with two Aurors shadowing him, stepped inside. Harry smirked and waved Fudge to the seat next to Malfoy. "Ah, Fudge," Harry drawled, "you do not look well. How has life been treating you?" With a vacant gesture, a plate filled with lumps of well-cooked meat appeared in front of Fudge, and the Minister looked hungrily down at the food.

Fudge gulped and patted his forehead and cheeks with his handkerchief, guiltily picking up a knife and fork. He looked down at his food and noticed that no one else was eating, but with a shrug, he dug in. "Alright," he mumbled around a mouthful. "My Healer believes I have come down with Wizard Flu."

"Ah, such a pity." Harry delicately fed Snape another chunk of meat and Hermione shifted nervously, clutching Viktor's hand between both of her own, and she met Malfoy's dull, one-eyed gaze. Harry watched almost curiously, seeing the way Malfoy's entire face changed when Hermione raised one of her eyebrows. He held in his smirk; they were giving themselves away. "But were you not vaccinated as a child, Fudge?"

Fudge nodded and gulped down another mouthful; Bill shuddered and Harry slouched in his chair to see one of Bill's long hands clamp down on Lupin's thigh. "Yes, Master Potter, I was. But Healer Fleece says it is a new strain."

Hermione's entire face twisted and she looked thoughtfully at Harry. "But there would have been mass panic if there was a new strain of Wizard Flu," she interjected, and Viktor slowly lifted his head, the emerald sealing his lips catching Fudge's attention. "Don't tell me it only affects the Minister."

Harry winked and placed Snape's empty plate on the table. "Eat, Malfoy. I don't know anything about Wizard Flu, Hermione, you know that." He smirked at Malfoy's muted grey glare of hatred, and green eyes brightened when Malfoy only moved the meat on his plate as to give the appearance that he had eaten. "Maybe Fudge was the first to catch it, and since it was caught quickly, he hasn't infected anyone else."

"The probability of that, Harry," Hermione murmured, but she shook her head and looked down at her lap, not finishing her sentence. Harry looked down at Snape's contented face and lifted the man's chin with one thin finger. Black eyes locked on his face and Harry leered down at him, touching the points of Snape's face with the tips of his fingers.

"Hermione, I ask of you to take Malfoy for the night. Snape and I have…topics to discuss." Snape blushed as Harry tugged him to his feet, and Harry threw Malfoy a knowing sneer as he stalked out of the room.

Hermione turned to Malfoy, eyes wide as she glanced fearfully at the door. "He knows!" she whispered, and the only reaction in the entire room was Viktor straightening up and gently reassuring Hermione with an arm around her waist.

(O.o)

Snape lay stiffly on top of Harry's bed, unsure of what he was allowed to do. He had been Harry's for nearly two months, and never in that time had he been allowed to even touch Harry's bed. But now Harry had told him to get in his bed, and when he had gone automatically to his dog bed on the floor, Harry had corrected him by presenting Snape with the warmth under Harry's down-filled covers. But Snape couldn't make himself get under them, not with Harry doing something in the bathroom; Snitches filled his stomach, beating against his skin and threatening to escape, to tell Harry Snape's most secret and hopeful wishes.

It was too soon and too long later when Harry stepped into his bedroom, glancing perfunctorily over Snape lying nude on top of the covers, and with practiced ease, he slipped in his bed, turning on his side to look curiously at Snape. "You are allowed to sleep under the blankets, Snape," Harry murmured, and with a snap, the lights in the room clicked out and Snape obeyed, curving up against Harry with a full-body sigh of relief.

(O.o)

Malfoy was pale-faced and jerky when Harry picked him up the next morning, flinching whenever someone other than Harry even looked at him and making small sounds of desperation in the back of his throat. Harry stepped up next to him and placed one hand on the top of Malfoy's shaved head, and Malfoy's head fell back, exposing his neck as he nudged Harry's hand. Harry smirked and leaned forward, breath falling over Malfoy's face; "Good slave," he murmured, and reveled in the twitches fluttering over Malfoy's skin. So Hermione had taken the time he had given her to give Malfoy a talk, just as Harry had known she would do. They were so obvious, their plans so foolish. He would expose them soon enough. "Follow, slave," Harry barked, and stalked out of Hermione's quarters with his dead-moon-blue robes biting at his calves, Malfoy stumbling behind him. Fools!

Harry stepped back into his quarters, holding the door open to his bedroom. He waved Malfoy in, glancing over Snape's slumbering body—his pet was under a sleeping spell for the time being, which Harry would release once he stepped out of the castle—and making sure his undetectable wards were up around the room. "You will wait in here. I have an errand to run and cannot be held down by…your lot." Harry slammed the door behind Malfoy and raised the wards on his room, absently wondering if he should feel sorry for Snape for being his guinea pig.

Harry shrugged and walked out to the Forbidden Forest, his feet taking him directly to the place he knew he needed to go. 


	14. Chapter Fourteen, Curried

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse. Torture. Cannibalism.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Replacement for the Stars**

Chapter Fourteen:  
Curried

(O.o)

Snape woke up to someone touching him, someone with soft hands but cruelty hidden behind their caress. He yawned and stretched before peeking up, hoping to see Harry, but instead he met Malfoy's malicious grey gaze, the pocket where he had once had an eye filthy and black. Snape recoiled immediately, scuttling up to curl against Harry's pillows, hoping that this was a trick, that this had only been an accident, that Harry had only put Malfoy in here with him for just a minute. The taste of Malfoy's optic fluid surged back into his mouth, tasting like acid and ruins, and Snape shuddered, watching Malfoy's every move from beneath his lashes.

Malfoy strutted forward and leaned menacingly over Snape, caging him in with long arms and a cruel twist to his lips. "Potter left me in here with you, little Severus," Malfoy drawled, his voice…_different_, and something snapped in the back of Snape's head, something that he should have seen all along, something that any good slave would have seen. "He left me in here with you even though he _knew_ what I wanted to do to you. I always told you that he _loved_"—the word Snape so privately treasured was spat out with more disdain than 'Mudblood'—"me more than you, and it's obvious now that I was right. You think he really likes you, Severus? You think he likes it when you touch him, when you curl up against him like a little dog? He hates it, Severus, and you know it. He thinks you're disgusting, pitiful, worthless. But you know that, right? You know he thinks of you as disposable, something that he could replace in a minute." Malfoy shook his head mockingly, as if he was sad for Snape, who turned his head away, as if that could stop Malfoy's words from reaching him. "He left me in here with you for a reason, Severus, so that I could destroy you, so I could take the one thing from you that he would never want."

Malfoy slowly straightened, grey eye as cruel as a moonless night, and he slowly removed his pants, throwing them on the ground. "Good thing you're already naked, _pet_," Malfoy snapped, and Snape scurried back, willingly falling off Harry's bed and nearly hitting his head on the floor. He slipped under the bed and tried to make himself as small as he could, as if hiding from Malfoy was like hiding from the wind.

What he was saying wasn't true, it couldn't be true. While Harry didn't love him, Snape knew that Harry had to care for him; his entire body felt like shattering if he thought any different. He shook his head wildly when he saw Malfoy's hand grab towards him, fingers that actually worked snatching and grabbing at the air, and Snape fell himself fall apart when Malfoy captured his hair and yanked him cruelly from out under the bed. He was thrown face-first onto the bed, legs hanging off the edge, and crude hands traced him in places where Snape had never had someone touch before. He gulped and held in his tears, hoping beyond hope for rescue, and Snape squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get away again, but Malfoy was stronger than him, and he knew the places to prod that would make Snape screech in pain, and Snape was soon a quivering mess of horror and agony on the bed, and he could feel Malfoy's heat against his back.

Then: "Slave, attack."

Snape whirled around to see pale flesh meet pale flesh, too-long and dirty hair swishing around, and he saw Harry's blank gaze perfunctorily glance over him before giving him a sad tilt of his mouth and beckoning him over. The sound of teeth and nails ripping flesh soothed Snape as he stumbled to fall at his Master's feet, unable to hold in his tears any longer when his Master caringly caressed his hair and held his cheek against Harry's hip, long fingers cupping the back of Snape's head. "Hush, pet," Harry murmured, "I promise no one will ever touch you again. There is nothing to worry about now; Malfoy will never hurt you again."

Snape looked up and Harry bent over at the waist, gifting Snape with a firm press of his lips between Snape's eyes. Snape glowed and slumped forward, feeling as if every touch Malfoy had burned him with melting off onto the floor, where his Master's very presence erased its very existence. 


	15. Chapter Fifteen, Couriered

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse. Torture. Cannibalism.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Replacement for the Stars**

Chapter Fifteen:  
Couriered

(O.o)

_Great Hall, daybreak, tomorrow._

Hermione looked down at the note, feeling something quake freezing awareness to her bones, and she wondered if she could run, if she could escape without Harry noticing her absence. She had been out to the place in the Forbidden Forest that very morning—she had almost been caught up in the charms and spells she had cast so long ago—and had seen how empty Malfoy's dearth of presence had left it, how she stood in the middle of the miniscule clearing had had almost allowed herself to fall into the trap of spells, almost allowed herself to be wrapped up like a bow in the sensation of Harry's magic ricocheting around her, caressing her in places she never wanted him to touch. Harry knew; surely he had always known, perhaps before she had even put her plan into action. Perhaps the magic he ingested had warned him of the charms and shields Malfoy had been wearing, perhaps he really was paranoid enough to test the bond, perhaps one of his spies had seen her, perhaps Malfoy himself had alerted him.

Perhaps he had known all along and had been waiting for a chance to spring his knowledge on her in the moment it would hurt the most.

Hermione swallowed stiffly and stepped back into her bedchambers, immediately noting Viktor's absence. The prior Quidditch star was always asleep so much earlier than she—a habit he had claimed carried over from his days of glory, before Voldemort had eradicated any sport other than murder and mayhem.

On her nightstand, an emerald caught the light and twinkled merrily.

(O.o)

"Hermione!"

Harry's joyful voice, so reminiscent of their Hogwarts years, flooded the Great Hall and Hermione stepped out of the shadows, hoping beyond hope that—_Petrificus Totalus_ hit her right in the chest and Hermione went rigid as a board and fell back, only to fall into long arms and Viktor's face loomed above hers, mouth open and bright white teeth shining down at her. Viktor grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her over to Harry's almost-throne, dropping her carelessly on the ground near Snape's black-stained feet. Harry flicked magic at her and Hermione slumped to lie boneless on the ground, feeling exhaustion from staying up all night in fear of attack hit her like a Bludger.

"I presume you know why you're here," Harry murmured in a tone too crude to be natural, and in a too-small cage made out of an unknown black metal, Draco Malfoy huddled in a blood-stained ball, his single grey eye leaking tears; the hole in his head was filled with garnets, giving him an otherworldly look that made Hermione feel almost sick inside. Snape peered curiously down at her and then violently retreated, almost up into Harry's lap, where thin hands gently reassured him of his safety. "And if you do not, you will surely figure it out soon enough." Harry paused and then motioned to Viktor, as if Hermione hadn't seen him. "Your betrayal came at a price, Hermione. The price of your husband deceiving you; did you suspect as I did, that he had never loved you? Were you not suspicious of his demands to only marry you in the tradition _Muggle_ fashion? Did you never see how his ring was made out of only fairy-dust and mirage? Or did the fact that you were married to a _star_, someone _famous_ take the knowledge away from you, hide it behind a grove of lies? Tell me, Hermione, how did you think you would have even remotely conned me into believing that someone who was bonded to me through a spell that cannot be replicated could be copied? Did you think I would not notice? Did you believe I would not care, that I despised his son more than him? Did you think I would simply overlook the truth and inwardly thank you for your deeds?"

Snape whimpered and pushed his head into Harry's stomach, and the bare, scarred skin on his back flushed a bright, furious red. Hermione forced herself to look up and she met Lucius Malfoy's absent grey eyes, seeing his too-long hair dangling in unkempt clumps and his skin pale and his fingers twitching towards Harry; as she watched, Harry casually extended a hand and Malfoy brightened, rubbing his cheek on Harry's hand and rumbling under his breath.

Hermione cleared her throat and sat up, ignoring the sudden pain in her back and clutching her fists to her stomach when Viktor took an automatic step away. She grit her teeth and met Harry's iceberg gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about, Harry," Hermione growled, and Harry let out a sharp bark of laughter that had Draco flinching away from him, a small rivulet of blood seeping out to pool against Snape's bruised leg.

"Don't fool me, Hermione. Be honest before I have to use spells." Harry glanced obviously at Draco and Hermione watched, horrified, as Draco recoiled violently and squeezed his eyes shut, his eyelid scraping over the garnets and protruding in unnatural sections. "Don't worry about surprising me; Draco had already told me everything. You would be surprised what a simple order can do."

"Oh, Draco," Hermione breathed, forgetting herself, and watched as Malfoy's grey eyes opened and they peered over Harry's occupied lap and down at his son. Draco made a small sound in the back of his throat, something inhuman and animalistic, something so pained and agonized that it hurt Hermione's ears, and suddenly, she knew what Harry had had Malfoy do to his own son. "You—you—how could you?" she screamed, yanking herself to her feet. "He's his _child_!"

Harry didn't bat an eye at her anger, even though Snape started trembling and Hermione watched thin fingers gently soothe the man's fears away. "That he _was_, Hermione," Harry gently corrected. "He was, until Malfoy disinherited him. Now Draco is only someone who looks a great deal like Malfoy, but has no relation, blood or magical, to him. The fact that Draco called Malfoy 'father' for years plays nothing on Malfoy's suddenly"—Harry's face curled into a thin mirror of himself—"_strange_ urges."

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to calm herself past a truth that was staring her right in the face. She turned her attention to Viktor, desperately seeking his guidance, but he only looked blankly down at her, brown eyes calm and thin shoulders slumped over his chest. "Viktor—" she tried, but Harry's amused snort cut her off. She whirled on him, the man who had once been her best friend and who had, such a short time ago, been her only refuge from what was happening outside the castle walls. Something in her mind clicked, opening a door from Harry's previous monologue, and she smirked knowingly, crossing her arms over her chest. "You said the bond was unbreakable! It's not! Since I was the anchor, I can break it!"

The flash of uncomfortable realization she had been expecting did not flash over Harry's face, but Snape froze and squeezed his eyes shut as Malfoy's entire body contorted to curve around Harry's long arm. Harry only smiled, the look exposing cruel teeth and a malicious glint in his eyes. "Untrue. You weren't the anchor; I am. It was my blood. And you honestly think that you were the ones to bond them to me? I would never have trusted anyone other than myself to do such a priceless thing. I bound them to me a week before; the collars and brands were my idea, implanted in your head by your _husband_ while you slept. The bonding you preformed was nonsense. The gold flash was something Viktor did to make you think you had actually done something, and their reaction was a timed spell. Silly girl."

Hermione stiffened and she looked at Draco's trembling form, stuffed into the small black cage. "How…how did you know?" she whispered, and, wand shaking, Conjured a soft chair for herself. She slumped into it and curled her arms around her legs, not looking at Harry as he explained himself.

"I noticed that Malfoy was not being himself the time I left Snape in the Astronomy Tower. The bond would not allow him to disobey two very direct orders: to not touch anyone and to not assault anyone else. He nearly…" Harry frowned down at Snape and obviously decided to skip over that section. "He did not show the proper symptoms when he was away from me. He did not react when I complimented him, nor did he react when I hurt myself. His attitude towards Snape changed literally overnight. He did not follow direct orders, and he called me Potter. He desired to be away from me. Even a moron would have seen it, Hermione, and I am anything but moronic. It was very simple to realize; all I wanted to know was how you had done it, but foolish Draco had hidden the letter you sent him in a very obvious place—the fireplace in my room. He had thought burning it would destroy the evidence; did you tell him that? I presume Viktor did, but what sort of pureblood doesn't know how to properly dispose of damning evidence? But your lack of using Polyjuice was very ingenious; that would have given me the evidence I needed in only a matter of moments. Your undetectable charms were almost infallible, but their magic rubbed off on Snape the night they were in the cage together. So, now, I will put you in a room of despair and in a week, you will have your due." Harry waved an impatient hand at her and Hermione felt herself sucked through a damning vortex, her entire body being crushed to itself and then realigned an a manner uncomfortable enough to be truth.

She landed in a room made out of bones.

(O.o)

Snape watched from behind his hair as Malfoy curved against Harry's leg, dirty head resting above Harry's hip; he had been sent to sit almost in the fireplace, feeling the flames licking his back and turning his skin inside-out. Harry had been ignoring him ever since Malfoy had come back, and this one had both his eyes, so he was obviously much more attractive than the other one. But this Malfoy was the one that Harry had castrated; had they missed that? Had neither of them seen that the imposter had been intact? Snape lowered his gaze to his knees and held in his sigh. He knew it wasn't right of him to want to be the only one close to Harry, to be the one that Harry used for his own pleasure, but it _was_ what he wanted, and he supposed Harry was disgusted by that, and therefore was punishing him for something he had tried so hard to change.

Harry and Malfoy stood up and went into the bedroom; Snape's heart caught in his throat and he wondered if he had been forgotten about or that had been intentional, if Malfoy was going to receive the one thing that Snape had been hoping for ever since he had first been used to bring Harry to completion. What had Malfoy done to be so lucky? He had been trying so hard to prove himself, to prove that he was the one that Harry should use, to try and tell Harry that he should be touched just once in that way, before someone else went at him again and he didn't have that gift to give anymore.

Snape pressed his closed eyes to his knees and tried to close his ears, preparing himself to muffle the sounds and do his best to ignore the pleasure that would be seeping over and through his entire body when Harry and Malfoy started. He told himself he didn't care, that if Harry wanted Malfoy more—after all, even filthy and distraught from being by himself with only charms and magic to comfort him, Malfoy was miles more attractive than Snape—than that was his right and Snape should be happy for him.

Suddenly, Harry's sense of perverted accomplishment flushed Snape's system and he recoiled from the source, almost catching himself before he fell into the fire, and then after a moment, he simply let himself burn.


	16. Chapter Sixteen, Courted

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse. Torture. Cannibalism.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Replacement for the Stars**

Chapter Sixteen:  
Courted

(O.o)

Harry took Malfoy into his bedroom and then looked around, wondering if he should lock the man in the cage or put him on the table again. Snape had been looking violently despondent and although Harry hated himself for it, a small, miniscule part of him that had never existed before, twinged in sympathy, and he had forced himself to leave his pet alone so Malfoy could recuperate. Both Draco and Malfoy had explained that Malfoy had been kept alive through charms and stolen magic, and although Malfoy had survived, the slave that had left him and the one he had now were different by the mass of an ocean. This one had been broken as cleanly as Snape, and for some reason, Harry didn't like it. It frustrated him; the resilient and willful Malfoy he had had before was much more exciting and Harry had enjoyed bending the man's will to live almost to the breaking point. But the Malfoy he had now was calm and fearful, and Harry hated it.

Harry perched Malfoy on the edge of his bed and ignored the soft, awed looks being cast his way. He enjoyed Snape like this, but Malfoy was infinitely more exciting as he had been. Harry pulled out his wand and quickly scanned through his repertoire of spells; after a moment, he cast Healing Charms, a Mind Relief Charm, a Personality Rebuilder Spell—all stolen from a Healer's stored magic in the weeks before he had defeated Voldemort—and, to top it off, Harry smirked and pressed the tip of his wand between Malfoy's muted grey eyes, sending a Rebuilding Hex straight to the base of Malfoy's magic. Perverted accomplishment fluttered Harry's system when Malfoy glared at him and pointedly looked away, although when Harry gently traced his collar, the man's head fell back and his hands grabbed at the air, as if begging for more.

"Good slave," Harry murmured, only loud enough for Malfoy to catch a snatch of it, and he stepped back, watching in amusement as Malfoy was tugged closer to him by the bond that had nearly destroyed him. "Come, I have something I want to do to you." Malfoy threw a smoldering look at Harry's back and stormed through the bedroom door in front of him, causing a wave of pure pleasure to shudder down Harry's spine and pool in the pit of his stomach.

The scent of burning flesh met Harry's nostrils as he perched on the edge of the sitting room, and before Harry knew what he was doing, he was on his knees next to Snape's quivering body, barking out orders to Malfoy, running his wand over the worst of the wounds and taking the potions Malfoy shoved in front of him without hesitation. They both knew that the game they played was for Harry's pleasure, and when the time came, Malfoy would submit without question.

"Oh, pet," Harry whispered, and pained black eyes creaked open, locking faithfully on his face. "Don't worry, I'll save you." Malfoy gently opened Snape's mouth and after glancing questioningly at Harry and receiving an approving look, he gently poured a vial of Numbing Potion down Snape's throat. Snape choked for a moment and then obediently swallowed, clutching at Harry's robes when Harry turned him onto his side. "It's alright, pet. Now, look at me." Snape tried to, but his eyes wouldn't focus through the tears, and Harry nodded, gentle understanding softening his face.

"Do you want the scars, pet? I do not care either way. Don't try to speak; I know you can't." Snape lifted his chin and rested his cheek on Harry's knee, and when Harry gently cradled his burnt face, Snape didn't flinch but only licked Harry's palm. "Yes, pet?" Snape looked up at Harry and Harry leaned over, pressing a fleeting kiss to Snape's brand. Snape blushed and reached up, clutching desperately at the thin shirt inside Harry's robes. "You wish to keep them? As you wish, my precious pet." Harry waved his wand over Snape's trembling body and the burns healed rapidly; Snape contorted but Harry calmed him with soft touches and kind words.

"Malfoy, get me a blanket."

Malfoy nodded stiffly and darted into Harry's bedroom, and after a moment of deliberation, tugged the thick down comforter off Harry's bed and pulled it into the sitting room. Harry gently lifted Snape and with a nod of his head, a comfortably worn couch appeared. Harry sat down on the couch, laying Snape longwise, and Malfoy tucked him in before perching on the arm closest to Harry, keeping an eye on the door in case anyone came in to see his Master in this moment of weakness.

After a while, the couch spread out wider, and Harry and Malfoy tucked themselves under the comforter, one on either side of Harry's shivering pet, and cocooned in his Master's arms, Snape allowed Malfoy to curl up against him and the three of them fell asleep, warm and finally safe.


	17. Chapter Seventeen, Caked

**Disclaimer: I own naught.**

**Warnings:** Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse. Torture. Cannibalism.  
**Pairings:** HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

_**Rainbow Row  
**_**By: Replacement for the Stars**

Chapter Seventeen:  
Caked

(O.o)

Harry sat down across from Fudge and looked over the man's pale, sweaty complexion and listened to his constant hacking and coughing, feeling the dwindling of his magic as the potions stole it from him and siphoned it into Harry's system, warming him in a way clothes could not. Snape perched on the edge of the chair next to Harry while Malfoy stood stiffly behind both of them; Fudge had quietly asked for Snape to not sit on the floor, as it had just been waxed. One of Snape's disfigured hands plucked at Harry's upturned palm and Harry gently took hold of Snape's hand, caressing the ruined and swollen knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

Fudge cleared his throat and spoke in a hoarse rasp. "As per your…schedule, Master Potter, I am stepping down in five days. You wished to be notified of each step, and so I am…notifying you."

Harry nodded and turned his head to look at Snape's shivering profile. Carefully, Harry reached over and pulled the smaller man into his lap, feeling Snape slump into his chest and then tuck his chin over Harry's shoulder, hiding his face from Fudge's sweaty, pale features. "Very well, Fudge. Is there any reason why I could not have been notified through owl? I had to drag two slaves in very precarious health to listen to your prattle; next time, have your secretary owl the information to me. Up, pet." Harry stood up next to Snape's shivering form and tucked his arm around the man's thin waist, running his hand under Snape's shirt and resting his palm against Snape's hip. "Wish me good day, Fudge," Harry demanded, and Fudge complied, voice shaking as he struggled to contain a new bout of hacking coughs. Harry nudged Snape forward and, with Malfoy falling in step behind the duo, they three left the Ministry with nary a question in their wake.

(O.o)

Snape curled under the thick comforter on Harry's bed, head tucked under a pillow and Harry's wand clutched in his hands. He had been deposited in the bed a little while back—time no longer had meaning when he wasn't with Harry—and Harry's wand had found its way into his grasp. He curved himself around the familiar magic and closed his eyes, a plan forming in the back of his mind, a plan so perfect and pleasurable that it would surely convince his Master that he was to be used before anyone else could come after him.

Snape twisted around himself, burrowing deeper into the pocket of warmth his thin body created, and he smiled into the hot darkness surrounding him, hoping beyond hope that his plan worked and the bond flushing his system would ever-so-finally feel complete.

(O.o)

Harry flushed his body of magic and any foreign substance, feeling suddenly worn and empty; was this how he had felt before he had learned so many tricks and treats to keep himself unaware of the suffering? Although the flushing wasn't necessary for magic consumption, it did make it all the sweeter next time he dined, and Harry had learned a long time before this that if it made something even more pleasurable, then any pain would be worth it. Slowly, he looked for Snape's huddled form beneath his covers; Harry leaned over and traced the lump, something catching in his chest when Snape gasped and tried to press into his touch. Malfoy mumbled something under his breath as Harry double-checked the locks of his cage, and satisfied, he slipped into his bed, feeling Snape press immediately up against him and hold his own wand to his chest.

Harry tensed immediately; he knew he had been stupid to trust Snape, of all the people he could have chosen! Betrayal stiffened his muscles and turned his bones inside out; he should have known that the pretty little pet he so treasured was just a disguise for Snape to weasel into his trust and then take him away to rot in a place far worse than Azkaban, he should have known that Snape was going to twist his trust and—Snape looked up at him, eyes so wide Harry fell into them, and he could see his own desires reflected in Snape's gaze.

Harry's hips twisted towards Snape's and one hand clutched involuntarily in Snape's greasy hair. "Yes, pet," he whispered, almost letting himself hope that Snape was going to do something to him that he had never experienced before, but the pet he knew wasn't proactive and rehearsed well-enough in the art of frottage. Had he truly chosen a pet he could trust fully, with every part of him? Was the bond so strong that when given even the smallest opportunity, Snape simply could not even fathom betraying him? He flushed at the very thought and before Snape could move, Harry pulled the man up and pressed their lips together, roughly penetrating Snape's mouth before the man could even moan, and both of them hardened against the other, causing Snape to gasp and desperately clutch at the sheets, Harry's wand between them; Harry shallowly thrust his hips upwards, and Snape froze, whining in the back of his throat, and then after a moment, pressed carefully backwards and moaned vibrantly into Harry's mouth.

"Good pet," Harry gasped, pulling away, and Snape purred, one hand slipping down Harry's side to gently cradle his sac, and then he moved behind to hesitantly press the pad of a ruined finger against Harry's anus, causing Harry to gasp and thrust up into Snape's stomach. "Pet," Harry whispered lovingly, and arched backwards to cover Snape's hand in thick lubricant with a touch of his own quivering fingers; "my beautiful, beautiful pet."

In the cage, Malfoy turned and looked curiously as Harry threw the covers off the bed, exposing Snape's pale body writhing in the dull light, and Harry's pleasure suffused him, turning him inside-out but still not leaving him aroused at the delicate sight in front of him; as Snape's crooked, broken fingers breeched Harry's entrance, and as Harry's wild moans filled their rooms, Malfoy briefly met Snape's black gaze, and Malfoy suddenly knew why he would never be in Snape's position. Not because he only never wanted to, but because he never needed to.


End file.
